


Manaveris Dracona

by canettealonzo



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bromance, Comedy, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Love/Hate, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canettealonzo/pseuds/canettealonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anya was a girl raised away from civilization in the backwoods of Starkhaven. After the tragic death of her mother whose last words where "Find the Hawkes." Anya sets out to find Hawke and her destiny. Finding Hawke wasn't as easy as it sounds though, especially when you're a young girl with a griffon cub surrounded by Tevinter slavers. </p><p>Seth Hawke sees Anya and rescues her. But what is this fluttering feeling every time he's with her. Everything was all well in Kirkwall, killing bandits here and there, returning torn trousers to their owners and saving the day once in a while. That was until he decided to help the Prince of Starkhaven.</p><p>Sebastian Vael had his own secrets. Seven years after he left Starkhaven and he could still remember that beautiful girl he grew up with. The only girl he loved. The only girl he could never have. The girl who had no memories of him and their time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heroes and Damsels

**Author's Note:**

> For images and more trivias about the characters, visit the official site:  
> http://manaverisdracona.webs.com/

_The bastards tied her down with dragon skin._ Anya struggled to free her hands from the tight bindings. _Not working. Damn. How did they know to use dragon skin?_

 

Anya took a deep breath, closed her eyes and cleared her thoughts.

 

_Amehe._ _Where are you Rhakkaro?_

 

She closed her eyes and saw through the eyes of her griffon. She saw clear waters. Rhakkaro looked to the left where there lay a shipwreck. Farther left was the island where she probably was.

 

 _Stop Rhakkaro. Don't come any closer. You're neither big nor strong enough to defeat these bastards. There are too many of them._ Anya felt some resistance from the griffon before it finally changed its course and decided to sit on a huge boulder beside the shipwreck.

 

 _Wait for me Rhakkaro. Don’t worry. I'll escape them soon._ She then opened her eyes and heard a faint screech from far away. _Well he's always been a worry wart. Now how to get away from these damn slavers?_

She tried the bindings again. _Nope. Not gonna happen. I suppose I'll just have to wait for a prince to save me._ She rolled her eyes at the thought.

 

"Ready your arms boys! Someone's coming!" One of the slavers exclaimed.

 

_Oh goodie. Let's hope that my luck holds._

 

Anya saw a tall auburn haired man casting spells at the slavers. _I’m pretty sure those aren’t healing spells._ Her captors crumpled down like dead flies. Another man, who had black hair and was obviously much younger than the first one came into view and started to attack the slavers with his great sword, mage-boy laughed when the slaver jumped away to avoid the said great sword. The sword-boy grunted and stabbed another slaver. Suddenly the sky was filled with flying arrows.

 

"How many have you got Hawke?" A voice sounded from the origin of the arrows. Anya sat up straight and saw a dwarf who had blonde hair and no beard? _Oh, a dwarf with no beard. Fancy that._

 

Then out of nowhere a burst of light erupted from behind the dwarf and right through the slaver who had tied her up. _Very nasty that one. Now what was that light before? Is that- oh it's another man. Wait..– what? Pointy ears. An elf then._

 

Anya sat back and watched as these four men stabbed, burned and killed each of the slavers. She couldn't exactly help anyway so she enjoyed the display of blood and gore unfolding before her eyes. Before she knew it, the slavers where dead and the tallest man in the group, mage-boy, her mental nickname for him, was approaching her.

 

"You alright? Did those men hurt you?" He asked concern evident in his ice blue eyes.

 

She shrugged. "I'll be fine as soon as you take these bindings off me."

 

He smiled and knelt down to untangle all the knots of dragon skin on both her arms and legs. Anya closed her eyes and summoned her griffon.

 

_Rhakkaro. Time to go. You can come to me now. It's safe enough._

 

The man just finished taking the bindings off her legs and started to free her arms when he accidentally brushed his hands on hers. She gasped,

 

"You . . . your name is Hawke isn't it?" Anya was a bit shaken from what she had just seen with just the brush of his skin on hers. That usually didn’t happen unless she concentrated hard enough to see a person’s past.

 

Hawke looked almost as surprised as Anya. "How did you even-"

 

"Your sister got killed by an ogre." Anya blurted out without thinking and quickly regretted it as she saw Hawke frown. These things were none of her business even if their touch was accidental. She looked away as the man named Hawke finished taking the binds of her arms.

 

“How did that happen?” Hawke asked.

 

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that. I- Uhm. Thank you. For saving me." Anya quickly said and turned to leave.

 

"Wait just a minute. You can't just-" A loud screeching sound came from above.

 

"Rhakkaro no!" Anya pushed Hawke away. Rhakkaro gave another ear splitting screech with his hackles raised. He was no bigger than a lion's cub but he projected an aura of danger.

 

"Amehe Rhakkaro! They saved me. Hush my little cub." The griffon finally stopped stalking Hawke and his companions.

 

Rhakkaro gave the strangers another hiss before he finally went to Anya and snuggled close to her.

 

"I'm sorry about that. He's just a few months old and overly protective of me."

 

"Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks. Is that a griffon?" The dwarf asked, lowering his crossbow.

 

The younger man who wielded the great sword interjected, "That's impossible Varric. Griffons have been extinct for over two hundred years."

 

Anya rolled her eyes. "Numbered but not extinct."

 

"I'm sure the Grey Wardens told us that they were extinct." The younger man insisted.

 

"So what do you think Rhakkaro is then? A hybrid between a lion and a bird? Because last time I checked that wasn't anatomically possible." Anya deadpanned.

 

The dwarf and Hawke burst out laughing while the young man just gapped at Anya. Even the elf, who was scowling behind them, chuckled a little.

 

"Oh Carver. I think you just got owned little brother." Hawke said, still chuckling, the memory of Bethany fading away. Even Anya couldn't help but smile a little.

 

Carver scowled. "Whatever. Why are you even here little girl?"

 

Anya looked at him then at Hawke, then at the dwarf, and then at the elf.

 

"That's the thing. I was looking for Hawke."

 

Everybody suddenly became quiet and stared at the mage.

 

"Wait what? Why're you looking for me?" Hawke asked.

 

"Look I don't know the exact reason either but before my mother-" Anya stopped. Not knowing how to continue. She took a deep breath and tried again. Hawke noticed her sudden change and waited patiently.

 

"Before my mother uhm-died. She told me to find you. She said that the Hawkes would always protect us." Anya almost whispered the last part. _How could someone protect one who's already dead?_

 

Everyone was quiet until Hawke decided to break the silence. He wasn’t going to stand around in the Wounded Coast, waiting for bandits to attack them while figuring this out. He was Hawke and there’s a pretty girl looking for him. _That was natural_.

 

"Well come on then time to go home." He said and wrapped his arms around Anya. She visibly stiffened. _Or maybe not_.

 

"What?!" Both Anya and Carver exclaimed in unison.

 

"You-you don't need to do this Hawke. I think Rhakkaro and will manage this on our own. Maybe my mother gave me the wrong name. Besides, we're not your responsibility." She insisted. Why would her mother ask her to find the _Hawkes_? She was pretty sure that _Hawke_ wasn’t a common name, so why?

 

"Nonesense. I won't leave a damsel in distress in the middle of a crisis. Butcher would love to have a new playmate and mother would love to have a new daughter." Hawke said and wagged his eyebrows at Anya who blushed profusely.

 

“Unless you’re evil, of course.” He added, pretending to look serious. That made Anya burst out laughing.

 

"Nah I'm a sappy, do-goodin' girl. I just want to save puppies and hug brontos until my arms fall off. Or until I die. Whichever comes first. Although, if my arms fall off, I'm probably going to die." She grinned as she hugged Rhakkaro closer.

 


	2. Who's Who

Hawke didn't understand why he felt like he knew the small, beautiful, dark haired woman who walked a few paces in front of him. He’d let her walk ahead of him as soon as they entered the gates of Kirkwall, giving her the space she wanted after hours of squirming in his arms. _I can't help it if she looks so fragile and her whole persona is screaming 'protect me’._

 

"Thoughts, Hawke?" Varric asked nodded his head towards the newest member of their merry band of misfits.

 

Hawke checked to see if Anya was out of earshot before he smirked at his friend.

 

"I was thinking of how nice her hips sway."

 

"Nah. You're better than that Hawke. I'm not saying that princess over there is not attractive, I mean look at those curves. She's sexy enough to make Bianca jealous." At that the dwarf patted the crossbow on his back.

 

Hawke looked at Anya again. _Maker, she is beautiful. Look at how those leather pants are hugging her legs and how that thin blue backless top makes her shape even more flattering. Oh and those sinful boots. Wait. I'm pretty sure I didn't have a thing for boots the last time I checked._

 

Hawke cleared his throat and then laughed.

 

"Now that you mentioned it. Doesn't she look like sex on boots?"

 

"Maker Hawke, I can't know these things about you!" Varric exclaimed.

 

"Why not? It might be a nice addition to your story. It’ll give it more spice, Varric." Hawke winked.

 

"Damn Hawke. Stop making Bianca blush."

 

Hawke just laughed.

 

"Anyway. Thoughts of princess aside. You still in with Wicked Grace night?"

 

"Oh yeah. Very wicked."

 

Varric shook his head and decided to have a chat with their pretty princess who was looking at everything with wide eyes.

 

Anya was following the elf quietly until the dwarf named Varric caught up with her and cleared his throat to get her attention.

 

"Yes?" Anya raised one eyebrow while the griffon in her arms purred in his sleep.

 

"So what's your story Princess?"

 

"I'm hardly a princess ser dwarf." Anya said and winked. Varric chuckled.

 

"Haha. The name's Varric. Varric Tethras, at your service milady and everyone here has a nickname, well except for Hawke cos' he's well, Hawke."

 

"So what are theirs?" Anya pointed at Carver and the elf.

 

"That one's Hawke's younger brother so we call him Junior and the other one's Broody." Varric pointed at the elf.

 

"Why Broody?"

 

"Well look at him, Princess. He broods like it's no one's business."

 

"I do not brood and my name is Fenris." The white haired elf retorted.

 

Anya giggled and looked at Varric.

 

"Shame on you Varric. He's right. He wasn't brooding."

 

Fenris raised an eyebrow. _Where is this woman going with this conversation?_

 

Varric looked mockingly. "Oh?"

 

"He's simply trying to convince the floor not to swallow us."

 

"I am not."

 

"Oh, you weren't? Sorry about that. Correction. He is simply admiring the filth and shit on the floor."

 

" _Venhedis."_

 

"Tsk. Tsk. It's not polite to curse in words I can't understand Fenris. Look I'm sorry I didn't notice."

 

"Notice what woman?"

 

"That you have a foot fetish the size of Kirkwall." Anya said and laughed.

 

Fenris just stared at her.

 

_What an odd woman._

 

Anya’s tone was serious when she turned to the dwarf. “I have a question for you too, Varric.”

 

Varric raised one eyebrow.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Have you. . .” Anya trailed off; fixing the cloak that Hawke lent her to cover Rhakkaro.

 

“Have I what, Princess?” Varric was now curious about what the mischievous little Princess was up to.

 

“Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?” She asked and then laughed out loud.

 

Hawke heard the whole banter and smiled at his friend's look of utter disbelief.

 

Varric recovered then pointed at Hawke.

 

“I think you and Hawke are meant to be, Princess. Meant to be.” He rolled his eyes.

 

"Hey Anya." Hawke suddenly called out to her.

 

"Yeah?" Anya looked at Hawke with a smile on her lips. Hawke didn’t say anything. “What? Do you think we’re meant to be as well?”

 

"Oh now that’s a good idea.” He smiled back at her.

 

“Now this is the best place in Kirkwall." He gestured towards the Hanged Man's doors.

 

"Uh-huh. Nice decor." Anya pointed at the upside down figure of a hanged man.

 

"They have the best, Princess. Now let's go in and have some fun and drinks." Varric pulled Anya with him.

 

Isabela was sitting in the bar when she saw Varric walking in with a small woman in tow. _Oh._ She stood up and made her way towards them.

 

"My, my Varric. How did Bianca react? The poor girl must be heartbroken. Worry not though. Isabela is here to comfort her."

 

"Not a chance Rivaini." Varric paused then continued. "Oh right. Princess, this is Rivaini and Rivaini, this is princess."

 

Isabela grabbed Anya’s chin and tilted it up to inspect her face.

 

"You're a pretty little thing aren't you?" Isabela smiled.

 

Rhakkaro chose that moment to yawn and open his eyes. He looked at Anya then at the stranger and hissed.

 

"Woah. What is that?" Isabela took a step back.

 

"The monster of your dreams.” Anya held Rhakkaro closer.

 

"Shh. They won't hurt us little cub. They're Hawke's friends which mean they're also our friends." The griffon looked at Isabela suspiciously.

 

Rhakkaro huffed and sniffed Isabela. He tilted his eagle-like head to one side and then the other.

 

"Oh isn't that just the most adorable thing!" Isabela squeeled making Rhakkaro twitch his ears.

 

Hawke noticed that the customers of hanged man started to look their way and quickly covered Anya and her griffon, fixing her cloak to cover her odd pet.

 

"I think we should go to Varric's suite before we attract more attention. We wouldn’t want people to see the myth of their lives" He pointed at Rhakkaro as he herded Anya upstairs to Varric's suite where Anders was already sitting with a drink in his hand.

 

"You guys are late for Wi-" He stopped when he spotted Anya.

 

Hawke noticed his friend’s look of male appreciation and rolled his eyes.

 

"Anya this is Anders. Do forgive his ogling I think the last time he saw a beautiful woman was before the golden city was corrupted."

 

"What? That's just mean Hawke." Anders glared at his friend before turning his gave back to Anya.

 

"I'm Anders. Pleased to meet you my lady." He offered his hand.

 

"I would suggest that you keep your distance from this abomination." Fenris came in through the door behind her.

 

“Oh?” Anya looked at the elf.

 

"I wasn't the one putting a fist through someone's chests the last time I checked." Anders growled at the elf.

 

Fenris glared at Anders and readied another retort. _Filthy abomination._

 

"Uhm. Putting a fist to someone's chest?" Anya interupted, making the two men look at her.

 

"Do you have something to say woman?" Fenris glared and she shrugged.

 

Varric saw that same mischievous twinkle in her and waited for what would come out of Anya’s mouth again.

 

"First you have feet fetish, now putting a fist on someone's chest? That's it. You have the biggest kink in all Thedas." Anya said innocently and laughed.

 

 _Now that’s what I call priceless._ Varric thought.

 

"What?" Fenris asked as he felt all anger and malice flee from his body. _What in the Makers- Ugh. She says the most inappropriate thing at the worst possible moment._

 

"Well you heard me. You have the biggest kink in all Thedas!" Anya said a little louder, causing Isabela to turn her head towards the bickering two.

 

"You're a very weird woman." Fenris stated dumbly, a wry smile forming in the corner of his mouth.

 

"And you're a very kinky man." Anya retorted making Fenris chuckle. _Did I just? Ha. What an odd woman indeed._

 

"Can we get Wicked Grace started before the cards shrivel up and die? Bianca's getting bored." Varric said, taking a seat. Everyone started to sit around the long table in the middle of the room.

 

"Wicked Grace?" Anya asked. _I’ve never heard of that before._

 

“You never heard of Wicked Grace?” Hawke raised an eyebrow.

 

“Nuh-uh.”

 

"It's a card game. More like gambling really." Hawke laughed, taking the seat closest to where he was standing.

 

"Really? Can I watch?" Anya’s voice was filled with excitement.

 

"Sure thing." Hawke said as he offered the chair beside him to Anya. _She must’ve lived under a rock for her not to know Wicked Grace._

 

 

Three rounds of Wicked Grace later and everyone was losing their coin to Hawke.

 

"That's it. I'm done." Anders stood up from his chair and straightened his robes.

 

"I'm done too. I have that sexy young guard to meet at the docks tonight." Isabela winked at Anya who stared at her as if she grew a pair of horns.

 

Fenris also stood up and nodded his goodbye to the table.

 

"Well we should get home as well then." Carver turned to walk out the door.

 

Hawke stood up and offered an arm to Anya who was still baffled about what Isabela said. He poked her in her cheek.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Thought you got lost inside there.” Hawke said, flicking Anya’s forehead.

 

“Evil man.” Anya grinned then stood up to take Hawke’s offered arm.

 

"Look how much coin I've got. You must be my lucky charm." Hawke wagged his eyebrows at Anya as they walked out of the Hanged Man.

 

"Really now?"

 

"Yes. I must be extremely lucky to get this much coin."

 

"Or you must be extremely good at cheating." Anya deadpanned and Hawke stopped walking.

 

"How did you- ah well never mind. That too."

 

"Not that anyone in the whole table wasn't trying to cheat." Anya had a wry smile on her lips.

 

"You know what, sometimes you remind me of my sister, Bethany. She always lectured me every time I cheated in a game of cards back when we were still in Lothering. Back when she was still-" Hawke stopped then continued. “By the way, how did you know that she died?”

 

“I can see people’s past if I try hard enough.”

 

“Ha. So that’s how.” Hawke looked away and then smiled. A smile that Anya was quickly recognizing to be his way of masking his true emotions.

 

Anya suddenly had a bright idea and looked down to hide her smile. _I shouldn't, I really shouldn't. Wait. Maybe I should._ She looked up and smiled.

 

"So you call your sister 'Sex in Boots' then?" Hawke's jaw dropped. He looked at Anya and saw the sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

 

"Ha. Thought you couldn't hear us." Hawke gave her a real smile this time.

 

"Oh I couldn't. But Rhakkaro could." She laughed.

 

"Alright Boots, I'll bite. So how does that thing with your pet work?" He nudged her with his elbow.

 

She nudged him back. "I'll tell you, but I'll have to kill you since I already told you one secret too many for one night."

 

"Fine. Fine. Keep your secrets." Hawke rolled his eyes and laughed.

 

"Don't worry. I'll keep yours too." Anya winked.

 

 _Oh yeah, that's mischief twinkling in her eyes just now._ Hawke thought as they climbed the stairs to Gamlen’s humble home.


	3. Another Day In Lowtown

Leandra Hawke didn't know what to say as she prepared breakfast. Her sons arrived the night before with a petite little girl and announced that she was going to be staying with them. Leandra didn't know whether she was more suprised by her sons bringing in a woman or by the little griffon that she held. She remembered a story that Malcolm had told her once, several days before he died. He told her about a griffon rider. She laughed at him then and told him that _that_ was impossible.

 

"Can I help you with anything?" Anya’s voice yanked Leandra back to reality.

 

"That's alright dear, why don't you go set the table up?" Leandra smiled at the young girl.

 

"Sure thing." Anya gave her a warm smile and rushed around their small area to set the table nicely.

 

 _What a charming young lady._ Leandra finished preparing breakfast.

 

Hawke just woke up and spotted his mother cooking and Anya setting the table.

 

"Mother?"

 

"Hmmm?"

 

"Do you think I should just marry her? You both look like contented ladies right now." Anya tripped and grabbed a chair causing it to tilt and fall.

 

"Ouch. Is it _that_ appaling to be married to me?" Hawke helped Anya back on her feet.

 

Anya snorted. "Ah I'm so flattered. Such a romantic proposal too bad a darkspawn beat you to it. Not to mention that he was better than you. He even handed me a bouquet of wilted flowers."

 

Leandra laughed at the friendly banter. She was happy that her son found the young lady amusing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Maker, why does it smell like rotten cabbages?" Anya said as they were walking around in Lowtown.

 

"Because we're in Lowtown, Boots." Hawke laughed.

 

They were on their way to ask Varric and Isabela to accompany them in darktown to sneak inside the Amell's estate since Carver was helping Leandra do the chores today.

 

"You say that as if that explains everything." Anya huffed.

 

"Hawke!" A voice called out near the Hanged Man. It was Isabela and beside her was a happy looking Varric.

 

 _Maker, lock picking does get them very excited doesn't it?_ Hawke and Anya approached the two.

 

They were passing the bakery when Anya spotted an urchin begging for bread. The shop owner just shooed the poor boy away.

 

 _Well that doesn't look right. Hmmm. Let's see._ Anya looked for the baker.

 

"Boots?" Hawke wondered why Anya suddenly stopped walking.

 

"Just wait here. I'll be right back." Anya walked to the back of the shop where the baker was.

 

Hawke followed her but stayed a few paces away, Isabela and Varric did the same.

 

"Excuse me." Anya waved at the baker.

 

"Need anything serah?" The baker asked as Anya approached.

 

"Will you give me two buns if I tell you how to make a fruit and raisin bun?" She asked bluntly.

 

The baker rubbed his chin thoughtfully and smiled.

 

"Depends if the buns taste good."

 

"Done. Now go get your dough." Anya instructed. Hawke leaned on the wall as he watched. Once again he wondered what she was planning.

 

"Here you go." The baker placed a handful of dough in front of Anya.

 

Anya opened a pouch on her hip and produced dried fruit. "Do you have some raisins?"

 

"I think so. Hold on- ah here." The baker handed her a jar of raisins.

 

Anya started to knead the dough, slowly incorporating some fruit and raisins as she does.

 

"Now just twist it like this and bake it until it's puffed up." Anya placed the twisted dough inside the oven.

 

"You're quite skilled young lady."

 

"You'll be surprised how much things you could do with plain ol' flour and eggs."

 

"Besides bread?"

 

"Yeah, have you ever tried pasta?"

 

"Pasta?" The baker’s eyebrows shot up.

 

"They are thin and soft and they taste good with tomato sauce and cheese." Anya’s mouth watered a little as she remembered the dish that her mother used to make.

 

"Ah it's done!" The baker exclaimed while pulling out the cooked loaf. He sliced a piece and took a bite. His eyes lit up.

 

"This is wonderful! Sissie!" He called out to the woman who was yelling at the little urchin before. "Look at this young lady's face. You see? Keep her in mind and you give her any bread she wants you hear?" He announced.

 

"Ugh. I think that’s too much though, I can pay for it."

 

"Nonsense. It's not for free! Now next time you come here, you teach me how to make that- what do you call that? Ah that pasta." He took another bite.

 

Hawke chuckled. He couldn't believe this girl even if he tried.

 

"No problem! Err, sorry I didn't get your name messere."

 

"It's Massimo to you young lady." The baker grinned and patted Anya's head.

 

"Thanks again for the bread Massimo." Anya walked back to where Hawke and the others were. "Oh and I'm Anya by the way!"

 

"Have a good day then little Anya." the baker laughed.

 

"You're a very weird girl, Princess." Varric stated lightly as she approached them.

 

"One last thing." Anya jogged to where the urchin boy was playing with other kids.

 

"Hey kid."

 

The boy looked up and approached her.

 

The boy looked nervous. "Did I do something wrong?"

 

"Nah. Breakfast?" Anya handed the boy the buns. The boy’s eyes grew huge as he held the still warm buns.

 

"Really messere? Thank you very much!" The boy ran back to share his food with his playmates.

 

Anya smiled and went back to Hawke.

 

"Thought you'd never be done."

 

"Sorry Bela. Sometimes I just can't help it." Anya shrugged.

 

"Don't say sorry princess. If you were in Orzammar they would've made you the paragon of bread. Or maybe the paragon of urchins. Whichever floats their boat." Varric chuckled.

 

"Maybe I _should_ marry you." Hawke whispered as he hugged her from behind. Anya couldn't help but blush at the way his breath tickled her neck.

 

"Oh look! She's blushing." Isabela exclaimed.

 

"I am not." Anya sauntered off and stopped when nobody was following her.

 

Anya rolled her eyes. "Yes, make fun of the innocent girl. Now are we going to break in someone's estate or not?"

 

Hawke and the others laughed as they followed Anya while she stomped her way around Lowtown.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Hmmm. Torn trousers. Broken sword. Decomposing stu– ugh what is that? I don't even– ugh." Hawke heard Anya muttering as she was rummaging through the chests. They cleared out more than two dozens of slavers when they broke into the Amell's cellar and now they were looking around the vault for his grandparent's will.

 

Anya digged around some more and saw a rolled up letter. _Hmmm. Now what is this?_ Anya started to read the letter. _Oh this is- I'll have to check this out when we go to the gallows._ She rummaged some more and finally found the will.

 

“Bingo!” She threw the will at Hawke.

 

Hawke caught it effortlessly and grinned.

 

“Great job everyone. Now let’s go salvage some more stuff and leave. This place is giving me the creeps.” Hawke pretended to shiver.

 

“Hey Hawke. Let’s sell these in the Gallows.” Anya waved a hand in the general direction of their loot.

 

“Why the Gallows?”

 

“I’m planning to turn you over to the templars.” Anya deadpanned.

 

Varric and Isabela stared at her.

 

“What? I was just kidding. Sheesh. You people are no fun at all.”

 

“Not a nice joke Boots. Almost had me running there.” Hawke chuckled.

 

Anya rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath while Hawke and the others took one last sweep around the vault before they finally left.


	4. Fireballs and Arrows

Anya looked around the Gallows for Tobrius, the man in the document she saw. She knew that it was none of her business but she had to. After all, she _was_ living in their house wasn’t she? So she sighed in relief when she finally saw the man. Anya spoke to the man in hushed tones while Hawke and the others were selling the things they got from the slavers. She didn’t want him to know her little surprise. Tobrius told her about Malcolm Hawke and a Templar named Ser Maurevar Carver. She asked him a few more questions before he left to get some other letters.

 

“Are you turning me in yet Boots?” Hawke suddenly whispered behind her, causing her to jump.

_How can this man always manage to sneak on me?_ Anya smiled at him. “He’s fetching the Templars right now.”

 

Hawke frowned and then laughed.

 

Tobrius returned and handed her the letters then suddenly froze when he saw Hawke.

 

“You’re Malcolm Hawke’s child aren’t you?” The old man smiled softly and gave Hawke’s shoulder a pat. “You look like him.”

 

Hawke was stunned for a few seconds. He then turned to Anya to raise a questioning eyebrow and grunted when she just shrugged.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that day they returned home to see Butcher playing with Rhakkaro.

 

“Carver?” Anya called out.

 

“What?” Carver grunted as he emerged from one of the rooms.

 

“I have these for you.” She handed him the Letters.

 

Hawke was listening as he was patted Butcher’s head.

 

“To Ser Maurevar Carver. . . This is- but father was a mage and he was a- a templar.” Carver stuttered.

 

Anya grinned and patted him on his back. “You see Junior, not everything’s black and white.”

 

“Don’t call me _that!_ ”

 

“I’m sorry what did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

 

“I said, don’t call me _Junior_.”

 

“What’s that? You said to call you Junior? Great! See yah Junior!” Anya laughed as she picked Rhakkaro up.

 

Hawke chuckled and smiled appreciatively when he saw the happiness in his brother’s eyes.

 

Leandra Hawke was also watching from where she was sitting. She was charmed by this girl. She was honest and had the innocence of a child. Oh and how she reminded her of Bethany. Sweet Bethany who was now gone.

 

Carver made an excuse about going out to get bread for supper and Hawke announced that he was going to take a much needed bath.

 

Leandra took this moment to get closer to the girl.  She smiled as she stood up and walked closer to where the girl was playing with the griffon. Something that amazes her every time she sees the creature.

 

Leandra took a seat beside Anya and smiled back when the girl smiled at her. "How long did you have him?" Leandra nodded towards the griffon.

 

"About two months. I summoned him before I went searching for Hawke. Before my mo-" Anya took an audible gulp. "Before my mother died."

 

"I'm sorry dear. I shouldn't have asked." Leandra hugged Anya.

 

 Anya felt the tears she kept reined in for so long, finally let lose.

 

"Shh. It's alright dear. It's alright." Leandra continued to soothe her as she cried.

 

After a few moments, Anya allowed herself trust the woman. She took a deep breath. "She was killed. She helped a man when he got injured while hunting and he repaid her by forcing himself on her." The whole scene flashed before her eyes. She felt the raw anger bubble up. She should've done something. She should've tried something, anything at all to save her mother. Not just hide behind the rocks and let him rape her and beat her up. But this was hardly the right time or place to be thinking of this. Leandra didn't need more heartaches to add up to her own pile.

 

Anya stood and backed away from the woman. "I'm sorry Leandra I shouldn't be bothering you with this."

 

Leandra noticed Anya slowly cloaking herself with a strong facade once again. She quickly decided to assure the young lady. "It's no bother dear. You can treat me as your mother. Just talk to me if you need anything."

 

"I- I" Anya stuttered. _No. I have no mother. My mother is dead and I would never see her again. I could never allow myself to be happy after what happened. Not until that man has died. Not until I kill him with my own two hands._ Anya gave Leandra a smile. Just like Hawke, she had also gained a talent of making everyone else believe that she was alright. "I'm just going out for a breath of fresh air."

 

Leandra frowned. "But it's already late outside dear."

 

Anya grabbed her bow- well it wasn't _her_ bow exactly since she lost her Silver when she got captured by the slavers but it would do- and gave Leandra another plastered smile.

 

"I have this. I'll be fine." She closed the door behind her. She looked up the sky where dark clouds were looming. _Just my luck. Looks like it’s going to rain and when there's rain, there's thunder._ _And when there's thunder, there are those horrific flashes._ She shivered at the thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She was walking in front of the Hanged Man when the rain started to fall. _Oh no._

 

Then there came the thunder. She crumpled down and started sobbing. _Oh no. Oh no, no, no, NO! Not this again._ She felt cold and scared and alone. Then there was the sound of a whip and the pain on her back. She couldn't move. She smelled something burning. Then she felt something hot on her legs and thighs. Then it was on arms. She screamed and screamed. She pleaded to someone to just kill her already but the pain simply continued. She sobbed and sobbed.

 

This was how Carver Hawke found her; curled up in front of the Hanged Man, sobbing incredulously.

 

"Anya?" Carver squinted at the familiar figure. When she didn't respond he went closer to her.

 

Carver tried to help her up. "Maker's breathe Anya. What are you doing here?! You're freezing!"

 

"Stop. Please just kill me. Just make it stop please, please, please." Anya whispered.

 

Carver froze. He took a closer look at her and saw that her eyes were shut tight and she was sobbing. Her teeth were chattering so much and he could feel her shaking.

 

"Anya! What's wrong? Wake up Anya." Carver nudged her repeatedly but she didn't move. Carver felt fear creep into his bones when he saw how pale she was. He quickly carried her and immediately felt how cold she was. He ran back to the Hanged Man and into Varric's suite.

 

"Dwarf!"

 

Varric took one look at Carver and the unconscious Anya and immediately told him to put her in his bed.

 

Anya rolled up into a ball as soon as Carver set her down on the bed and continued chanting for someone to kill her.

 

"Keep an eye on her. I'm getting my brother." Carver rushed out.

 

Varric was worried. Now that was the understatement of the year. He was terrified for the young woman. Terrified that if he took his eyes off her for a second that she will shrivel up and die. He asked Nora to fetch a bowl of hot water for him while he dried her as much as he could, and prayed that Hawke would get there soon.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hawke was chatting with his mother about his grandparents when his little brother suddenly burst in, rain soaked with panic written all over his face. Hawke immediately knew that something was wrong.

 

"It's Anya she's– you have to go see her. Something’s wrong." Carver didn’t even finish before Hawke rushed out.

 

The two men nearly ran all the way to the Hanged Man. Hawke arrived just in time to hear Anya scream when a thunder boomed. He rushed to her side, bringing her closer to him.

 

"Shh Boots. Shh. Just the thunder. I'm right here. Shh." He chanted to her as she continued to sob. After a few more thunders, he felt her fingers gripping his shoulders.

 

"I'm sorry father. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Anya sobbed as Hawke held her tighter. He felt his stomach clench at her words. He wanted to protect her, but how could he when he couldn't fight her monsters. So he did the only thing he could. He held her and soothed her until the rain finally stopped and she finally calmed down.

 

"What happened?" Hawke asked as he laid her down and covered her with a blanket.

 

"I don't know, brother. I came out of the Hanged Man and saw her lying on the floor. I tried to talk to her but she kept saying the same thing over and over again. When _that_ didn't work I carried her here then went to get you. I don't know what else happened. Ask the dwarf." Carver nodded towards Varric.

 

"She screamed like a bloody Shriek every time she heard a thunder, Hawke." Varric handed Hawke the hot water and towel he asked from Nora.

 

Hawke took it and started wiping Anya's forehead. She was cold and pale. _She looks dead_. _Just a few hours ago, she was laughing with me. Well more like laughing at me really. And now she's like this._ He shuddered at the thought as he wiped her arm. He hardly knew the woman. So what was this sinking feeling in his gut every time he glances at her face? He pushed the crazy thoughts away. He was Hawke. He always takes care of his friends.

 

A sound of scuffling feet yanked Hawke from his reverie. He looked up to see Anders.

 

"A runner came to the clinic. I came as soon as I could. What happened?" Anders asked.

 

Varric narrated what happened.

 

Hawke saw the mage frown and stare at Anya, worry evident in his eyes. He suddenly felt a pang of annoyance. It was highly inappropriate. Anders was a healer. _And a man. A man who's obviously interested in her._ Now where did that come from?

 

Anders went closer and casted a small ball of healing magic over Anya then frowned.

 

"What's wrong?" Hawke was nervous now.

 

"Nothing. That's the problem. Nothing's physically wrong with her." He looked at Hawke. "I don't know why she's like this."

 

"She kept asking us to kill her a while back, Blondie. I think something _is_ wrong."

 

"I don't see any– Unless. . ."

 

"Unless what mage?" Carver stomped his foot impatiently.

 

"Unless something traumatic happened to her before. If that's the case, something must've triggered her to remember." Anders pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

Hawke stared at Anya and then looked at Varric. "Varric, didn't you say that she screamed every time she heard a thunder?"

 

Varric nodded realization dawning on him. Hawke looked at Anya again and felt that knot of anxiety in his stomach.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Anya was thirsty. Her head was pounding and she felt cold. She slowly opened her. _Where in the Maker's breath am I? Wait is that Varric?_ She was trying to sit up when her arm suddenly bumped into something warm. It was Hawke.

 

He fell asleep sitting on a chair with his head on the bed. Anya never really saw what the man looked like up close. Maker, she shouldn't be doing this. It would be bloody awkward if he wakes up and catches her staring at him but she couldn't help it.

 

She traced a finger over his closed eyelids then on his nose and then on those prominent cheekbones. She sighed. _Women would kill to have him._ She never really noticed how handsome he was until now that she was staring at his sleeping face. _No Anya. That way lay dragons._ She shoved the thought away and continued what she was doing. _I'm just . . . observing._ She assured herself and traced a finger to his perfectly shaped lips. She almost yelped when Hawke suddenly grabbed her hand.

 

"Shh. You wouldn't the others to wake up and see that you were taking advantage of a sleeping man." Hawke whispered and pointed to the sleeping men.

 

Carver was sleeping on the chair close to the door of Varric's suite while Anders and Varric were asleep on the table.

 

"I wasn't–" Anya looked down and blushed.

 

Hawke noticed and smiled. "I was just teasing Boots. How're you feeling?" He took a seat on the bed beside her.

 

"Thirsty. Are you sure you didn't pour sand on my throat while I was sleeping?"

 

Hawke handed her a mug of water and waited patiently with a smile on his lips as she drank every drop greedily. He waited for her to finish drinking before he casually began his subtle interrogation.

 

"I was too busy trying to figure out what was happening to you." Hawke easily caught the mug Anya suddenly dropped.

 

Anya stiffened and gave Hawke a blank look.

 

"I need to know what happened, Boots." Hawke said slowly placed an arm around her and hoped that this would make her comfortable enough to speak.

 

Anya sighed and leaned closer to Hawke. His warmth calmed her. She knew that she had to tell him if she was going to stay for a while. Not to mention that it would be utterly dangerous if she suddenly has an attack in the middle of a fight.

 

Anya closed her eyes. "Did you know that I don't have memories before I was ten?"

 

Hawke shrugged his head and smiled to encourage her.

 

"My mother told me that I lost them when my father died but my mother was never a good liar you see. I knew something else might've happened. Well that's because I have these flashes whenever I hear thunders. But don't worry. I'll rein it in next time." She gave Hawke a smile.

 

Hawke sighed. He knew that kind of smile very well. "You don't have to pretend to be okay in front of me Boots. And you shouldn't give me fake smiles as well. Maker knows I've had enough of those from myself."

 

 

"You're a good person Hawke." She said and placed a hand on his warm chest.

 

Hawke groaned. "Seth."

 

"Hmmm?" Anya hummed against him.

 

"I want you to call me by my given name." Hawke surprised himself by asking Anya to call him by his given name. He had never said that to anyone before, especially a woman. To the people of Kirkwall he was always Hawke. Everyone knew who Hawke was but only a few knows who Seth is.

 

"Seth. I like that better than Hawke." Anya looked up at him.

 

Hawke felt that fluttering feeling again and for a moment, just for a moment, he felt those eyes look past his facade and touch his soul. _It's because I'm a man and she's a beautiful woman._ He told himself. Or at least he tried to.

 

"You're the brother I've always wanted but never had Seth. Thank you. For being you." Anya hugged him.

 

Hawke knew he should feel happy when she said that but what was this feeling? _Disappointment? Maker I should be happy that she sees me as family. Didn't I just tell her that she was like a sister to me? Andraste's flaming ass. What am I thinking? I am Seth Eddard Hawke, I flirt and fuck but I don't fall in love._ Assured by his thoughts, Hawke lied down beside Anya.

 

"Come on Boots. Let's try to get some more sleep before the sun rises." Anya smiled and snuggled closer to him. Hawke placed an arm over his eyes and tried to ignore how warm, soft and utterly perfect she was beside him.

 

* * *

 

 

 _Safe. I feel safe._ Anya snuggled closer towards the warmth beside her. She heard someone chuckle. She opened her eyes to see Hawke- No Seth was chuckling at her. _But why is he?_  That's when she noticed his arm around her and her head on his chest.

 

"Oh would you look at that. She's even more adorable than her pet when she blushes." Anya's gaze snapped to where the voice was coming from.

 

Isabela was sitting across Varric with her legs on top of the table.

 

Varric looked at her and grinned. "Another Day in Lowtown: Mugged or Hugged what do you think Hawke?"

 

Isabela grinned. "I don't see how he could think when a creamy thigh is draped on him."

 

Anya looked down and gasped. Sure enough, her thigh was draped on Hawke as well as her arm. And how in the world did she lose her pants and end up wearing an oversized shirt.

 

Hawke chuckled again.

 

"I promise I didn't see anything."

 

"Wha-what? You couldn't possibly have. You didn't right?"

 

"Had to. You were soaking _wet._ " Hawke chuckled when Anya blushed even more.

 

"How can you make that sound so dirty?" Anya asked incredulously as she started to stand up and gather what dignity she could find.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Wait, don’t-”

 

 _Haha!_ Said the Maker as the giant spider with one of her arrows embedded through its middle… exploded. At least that’s what Anya thought he might have said if he were actually paying attention.

 

As it was it didn’t seem to matter much that said spider was already dead, long, creepy limbs twitching as the life went out of it. Dead spiders exploded just as good as live ones, especially when part of a cave was dropped on it thanks to a purposely ill-timed spell.

 

Turned out spiders were full of goo, which, coincidentally was now all over her.

 

There was a piece of leg in her hair.

 

It twitched.

 

_Hold it together, Anya._

 

She glared at Hawke. They were at a cave somewhere in the wounded coast trying to save a bunch of mages which is ironically a request from a templar named Ser Thrask.

 

Maker, it was warm. And sort of had the consistency of vomit.

 

_Hold it. Together. Anya._

 

She swallowed around the metallic taste of bile in her mouth and clenched and unclenched her now-gooey hand. She noticed a snickering Hawke replacing his staff on his back. “Seth Hawke, you did that on purpose!"

 

Hawke guffawed. She looked at her companions. None of them were covered with goo. Not one of them. She frowned.

 

“I’m the only one that got hit? Really? Just me? Damn.”

 

"Erm princess. . . I think you have something in your hair."

 

"No shit Varric. I can feel it twitching."

 

Rhakkaro whined and looked at Hawke. The griffon always trusted him to make everything right again. Hawke tried to stop laughing. He looked at Anya who was obviously not happy with his little joke. He sighed. His mess. He'll clean it. He grabbed a clean cloth from his pack and approached Anya. He was pretty sure that if she could shoot lightning with her eyes, he would've been fried on the spot.

 

"I must say. Dead spider and goo looks good on you." He winked.

 

"Really. . ."

 

Anya smiled impishly and started slowly walking towards him. Walking? Who was he kidding? With that smile and that gleam on her eye, she was stalking. Stalking like a wild cat and he was her prey.

 

"Looks good you say?" She asked and suddenly pounced on him. They both landed on the cave's floor. Anya placed her knee on Hawke's chest and started gathering her hair with one hand.

 

"I wouldn't want to be the only one who looks good." She said as she squeezed her hair, making the goo ooze out on Hawke.

 

Hawke made a face and laughed. He should've seen that coming. Not that he ever figured out what she was going to do next. Gone was the shy little girl he had rescued a couple of weeks ago.

 

He heard her giggle. He never got mad at her and her little quirks. She had been closer to him since the day when she last had her flashes. Even now that he's covered in goo just like her, he still laughed. He never got tired of constantly taking care of her and making her laugh. And of course teasing her just to see her blush was a bonus.

 

"Well this is interesting." He gestured at their position with him lying on the floor and her on top of him. She suddenly stopped giggling and hastily tried to get off him. He saw her blush and he felt that familiar sensation again. He brushed it off. _That way laid dragons._

 

"Soooo. . ." Anya dragged on, looking everywhere except at Hawke. "How do you propose to distract Ser Thrask?"

 

"Leave that to me princess."

 

"Maker help us." Carver muttered still not pleased with his brother risking the wrath of the templars. As if they needed more of that.

 

Fenris secretly agreed with the younger Hawke. He didn't even know how he got dragged in this mess. Her. It was because of her. He found that he enjoyed her company, liked her effortless humor, her practicality and her willingness to drink on demand. Not that Hawke allowed her to drink. He didn’t like that she was so easy to talk to – or rather, he did like it, but he didn’t know quite what to do with it. Of all the friends that he’d almost had in what he could remember of his short life, Anya was the best, unfazed by his ill-humors, his temper, and what Varric called his brooding.

 

Not that he brooded, but still. He found it was enough to forgive her her magic (which wasn't like any magic he's ever seen), her stubborn disregard for her own safety, and her poor choice of association. He, after all, was not the most savory of characters among their male fellows, escaped slave squatting in a borrowed mansion that he was. Varric at least was a merchant prince, connected to everything that went on in Kirkwall in ways he still didn’t understand, and there was Hawke, another mage but a good one and his very close friend, but Fenris counted himself at least better than the half-mad abomination that she’d insisted on befriending.

 

Anders. The man was always watching, always pinched and hungry-looking. At least Fenris would be there, probably with something sharp in hand, when that stray cat finally hissed and swiped his claws at her; he liked to think that alone made up for some of his own general unsuitability. Anders coveted her. He could see that every time he looked at her. Hawke obviously didn't miss that as well since he was as stubborn as a mabari with all things connected to her. He once subtly snapped at Anders for slightly flirting with her. Oh yes, Hawke will definitely be there to burn Anders to a crisp if he ever tried anything funny. Perhaps Fenris would even dance around his burning body when that happened.

 

It was unsettling too, realizing that for the first time in a long time he was paying attention, close attention, to something besides running away. He looked at where the Anya and Hawke were.

 

“Seth, where did you put the- did you bring the thing?” Anya was rummaging around in Hawke's pack and Hawke blinked at her while he tried to wipe off as much goo off his clothes as he could.

 

“The thing?”

 

“You know, the thing.” Anya made a vague gesture, obviously unable to come up with the word she was looking for.

 

“Oh, the thing. In the pocket. No, boots, the other pocket. Yes, that one.”

 

Somehow from all of that Hawke had been able to deduce comb and a vial of an herbal concoction which Anya created as a disinfectant. Their ability to communicate with each other, sibling-speak as Hawke called it, was unnerving to everyone. They were casual with words and touch and gesture, forever informal. It was as if they lived in a bubble made just for the two of them. Hawke was even closer to Anya than he is to his own brother. Not that Carver cared about those things.

 

Hawke stared as Anya poured the concoction over her hair, trying to clean up as much as she could.

 

He wanted to touch it. He wanted her close to him like that night after she had her flashes. He wanted to slide his fingers through it from the crown of her head all the way down to the ends. He wanted to bury his face against it and feel it soft and cool against his cheek, inhale the scent of her soap. He wanted to feel it spread out over his bare skin, pictured how it would fall over his arm if he curled it around her, how the ends of it would feel brushing his chest if she sat astride him, the graceful lines of her body obscured by a veil of hair that would fall forward over her shoulders.

 

_Dammit Hawke. Get a hold of yourself. She trusts you and thinks of you as her brother. That's the only reason why she lets you hold her and touch her._

 

“Why don’t you ever wear it down?” Hawke asked, and Anya chuckled.

 

“Spiders.”

 

"Oh come on. That was the first time I did that."

 

Anya rolled her eyes. "Fireballs."

 

Hawke grinned. Well there was that too. He loved fire and he had a tendency to burn everything that tries to come near her. A little too over protective? Nah.

 

"I would end up with not only my hair burned, but also my head with you around."

 

"Well, you're right about that." He laughed as they approached the opening of the cave.

 

Varric made short work of the templars with his smooth lying skills and before they knew it, they were heading back home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Anya was walking beside Hawke. She felt safe. Safe in the most dangerous city on the Waking Sea. Just another example of how her good sense had completely fled her. But she was with Hawke and Seth Hawke took care of what was his, which surprisingly included her. It was almost as if she had a place to come home to again and it wasn't that shabby little hut in Lowtown. She thought as she inched a little closer to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist as if he had been doing it for years and she knew then that he was her home. Seth Hawke was her _home_ and she too, always protected her home.

 

They were exhausted by the time they got home. Leandra was sleeping on the third level of the bunk bed they all shared and Carver said something about going out. Of course that meant that he was heading to the Rose.

 

Anya came in the room and tapped Hawke's shoulder, signaling that it was his turn for a bath. He nodded and left, leaving Anya to fix their pack for the next day and examine the loot they have gathered from their last adventure. She started cleaning the Starkhaven staff that Grace, one of the mages they saved, gave Hawke.

 

Starkhaven. It felt like another lifetime ago and yet it was just a couple of months ago when her mother died. She closed her eyes and swore that she would make them pay. Hawke made it easy for her to forget and she didn't know whether to be infuriated or happy about that. Six weeks. She's just been with Hawke and his merry band of misfits for six weeks and yet deep down she knew that if someone ever tried to harm Hawke, she would definitely take the blow for him even if it kills her. This was something she didn't understand.

 

Hawke found Anya sitting on the floor with her eyes closed. For all her quick wit and humor, he knew that she was keeping her pain all to herself. They were similar in a way that they would both rather keep their heartaches to themselves so nobody would worry and he didn't want her to be alone.

 

He kneeled behind her as quietly as he could and slowly wrapped his arms around her. He felt comfortable with her. With Anya everything is just as it is. A smile is just a smile, a touch is just a touch and hug is just a hug. There were no other meanings and there were no awkward moments whether they were alone or not.

 

"I'm okay, Seth."

 

"Mmhmmm."

 

"No really. Just tired. Let's just go to sleep." Anya slowly took Hawke's arms off and smiled at him. Hawke's hand lingered on her waist for a while before he finally sighed.

 

"If anything's bothering you. Anything. Tell me." He stood up and took the staff from her hands and placed it to where their other things were.

 

Anya smiled and nodded at him as she stood up and started making Hawke's makeshift bed on the floor. He gave her his bed and insisted that he was completely fine with the idea of sleeping on the floor the first day she slept on his house. Well Gamlen's house, actually.

 

She finally finished and settled on the small bed. Hawke finally decided that their pack was ready for the next day and lied down on the floor beside Anya's bed. He was tired. They were doing so much these days just so they can get the money that they need for the expedition. He placed an arm over his eyes.

 

“Hawke?”

 

There was a moment of silence that stretched out between them and he’d almost begun to think that she’d fallen asleep when she spoke again. “Thanks for tonight. You’re a good friend.”

 

He felt her fingers on his hair as she gently started massaging his scalp. He wanted her then. Wanted to hear her sweet sighs and whimpers as she bucked beneath him. _Stop it._

 

He wanted to punch himself, ashamed that he would even consider indulging himself with her in the very same room, that at any point defiling her in his mind would ever be a good idea, let alone with her asleep in his bed just a few inches away.

 

“Go to sleep, Boots.” was all that he said and she made a small sound that might have been a laugh and withdrew her fingers from his hair. If he was lucky, and he hoped he was, he was going to fall asleep. Fast. Before he could think of other obscene things about the girl who was innocently sleeping in the same room as him.


	5. For What It's Worth

He’d done his best, but at this point he wasn’t even sure what that meant.

 

If it meant that he excelled at his work, that was hardly anything new. Hawke had never had much trouble being a capable killer and if nothing else these last months had shown him how easily he could take to the life and business of a mercenary. It was oddly fulfilling in a way, ridding the city of refuse it could stand to lose and helping those few innocents they could.

 

They all did it for the money, that part he never deluded himself about. There were times, though – after successful jobs and sometimes after ventures that ended up being complete failures – that he would look to Anya and find that same stern, stubborn expression on her face. The one that promised this is not the only thing there is. The one that made him believe her when she said that one day, soon, things would change. That soon things would be better for all of them, that she’d look after him. He laughed it off but deep down he was happy. Happy that she was here to stay.

 

It's not as if he needed looking after. If anything Anya was the one who needed supervision, haring off with her ideals and her bright ideas and her ridiculously selfless need to help.

 

And still, if doing his best meant keeping his hands away from her, there he had utterly, completely failed to the point that it became normality. The last few weeks had been a flurry of activity, busy for all of them; Varric kept him well-supplied with potential jobs, and wherever he went, he took Anya with him. He was stuck in the middle of worrying about her safety if he wasn't around and worrying about his own sanity in this crazy city if she wasn't there to make her sarcastic remarks and funny quips.

 

Sundermount. Wicked Grace. The blasted Gallows. It didn’t seem to matter. He was fine as long as she was there. So close yet so far. He still teased her with his dirty remarks. But he was Hawke. He flirted with every beautiful woman he could. He also slept with most of them if not all. He was pretty sure that the Maker himself sent Anya just to torment him. The one woman he couldn't have. He should've left it at that but no. He just couldn't help but admire her agility with a bow, her confidence in mixing potions and poisons (this from the woman who makes his tea every morning) and her weird magic, but most of all he loved her gentler and sweeter side. The way she would make his bed every night, the way she softly blows on his wounds every time she put some of that disinfectant concoction of hers, the way that she would braid his slightly long auburn hair away from his face every morning before they went out. He adored her habit of letting her hand dangle from the bed so she could tangle her fingers in his locks. They were– close. For the lack of a better word. It intrigued their companions at first. It amused Varric while Isabela went off and made plenty of sexual jokes about them until she got tired of Anya just shrugging it off. Now Anya in his arms was just a normal thing. Anya doing everything she does every time they camped was just another normal thing. Anya kissing his cheek saying goodnight was just a normal thing. It was normal to everyone- everyone except him. He couldn't help but want for _more_. But he kept it to himself. Sometimes he wondered how he was doing it. They lived under the same roof and shared the same room. He mentally patted himself everyday for his self control.

 

That’s what it was now, comfortable. He was sure that’s what was best, an easiness between them. But that easiness also meant distance. Since the first night she’d spent innocently asleep in his bed, since the morning afterward when he could hardly function for the presence of her scent, real or imaginary, hanging in the air, he’d all but erected a physical barrier between them. One that she respected without seeming to realize it was even there. They were close. As a friend. As a family. But never more than that.

 

That part was not well done, but it was necessary. An idle touch was a shock to his system when just the smell of her soap could send his mind into a full tailspin, and half the time he was following her in and around Kirkwall he couldn’t help but fantasize about the shape of her body beneath her clothing, couldn’t help but imagine the way her hair fell down her naked back.

 

He would die if she knew the thoughts he entertained about her, the filthy things that went on in his mind while she innocently touched him. The things he could make her do there.

 

He would die. She would kill him.

 

And she would be right to, because he would have well and truly deserved it.

 

* * *

 

“Remind me again why we’re doing this.”

 

“Guts, gold and glory?” Anya said and Hawke gave her a withering look and she shrugged.

 

“What? It sounded better than ‘it’s on Solivitus’ list’.”

 

“Obviously a worthwhile reason to be scouring the back hills for a useless piece of wood.” Hawke muttered. It was one of those days when he rivaled Fenris on the grumpy scale.

 

“Ironbark isn’t useless,” Merrill objected, clearly missing the sarcasm in Hawke's voice. “It’s good for a number of things. Why, for example-"

 

“Spare me the lecture, please.”

 

“Come on kitten,” Isabela interjected when the little Dalish mage frowned, distracting her long enough for Anya to elbow Hawke less than subtly in the side. “He’s just grumpy.”

 

“I am not grum-”

 

“Oh,” Merrill said thoughtfully, over the top of Hawke's objection. “I thought he was hung-over.”

 

“I am not-”

 

“Could be that he needs to get laid.” Isabela said and whistled while dragging Merrill away. 

 

Hawke wanted to bang his head on something hard very badly at that moment.

 

"A night at the Rose." Anya suddenly whispered to him. He gave her a flat look. If only she knew that what he wanted wasn't at the Rose but right in front of him.

 

He sighed. "Not in the mood, Boots."

 

She twisted her head to one side. A look that asked him what was wrong. He looked away and ignored her. He kept walking, looking for that blighted tree. It's not as if he could tell her that she was the reason he was grumpy. It wasn't her fault that he woke up with a hard-on the size of Thedas because he had a dream of her writhing under him, wanton and willing. _Dammit Hawke. Get a hold of yourself_. He was suddenly very sure that every day is going to be torture in that small room they shared.

 

“Come on girls,” Anya said finally, taking pity on him. “Let’s leave Ser Grouchypants alone and find this tree.”

 

"Let's just get this done and over with." Hawke groaned.

 

“What’s the hurry?” Isabela complained. “Nice day, nice view.”

 

Both Anya and Hawke found themselves being subjected to one of the pirate’s infuriatingly tactless eyebrow waggles, and rather than let Hawke say something scathing Anya calmly spoke right over the top of his pithy rebuttal.

 

"I thought you already got tired of making fun of us Bela?" The Pirate shrugged.

 

Hawke immediately had a bright idea to shut the pirate up. “If we make it back to the city before dark, I’ll buy us a round.”

 

Isabela gave him a look.

 

“Two rounds.”

 

The look didn’t waver.

 

“Two rounds and a shot, that’s my final offer.”

 

Satisfied, Isabela linked her arm with Merrill’s and strode off ahead of them. “Come on kitten, we need to find ourselves a tree.”

 

Behind them Anya laughed shortly and then sighed, lifting a hand to rub at her temples the way she seemed to be doing more and more often these days. Maker help her but she was tired, feeling like life was comprised mostly by long stints of boring walking, punctuated by brief moments of inconvenient terror and excitement.

 

Basically, what Isabela’s definition of adventure.

 

Never let it be said that Hawke turned down the opportunity for a good adventure. The Hawke children had inherited that from their father as their mother was endlessly saying, complaining ruefully but also with great affection. Leandra said the same when she and Carver had enlisted in King Cailan’s army when news of the Blight threatened.

 

It was their obligation. Their Ferelden duty to king, kin and country.

 

He missed that life terribly, but even more so now that his father and Bethany were gone. His mother was so melancholy half of the time that he didn’t even dare speak of it to anyone but Aveline, who had been there, and Anya, who was surprisingly adept at getting him to talk about things he thought he’d long put to rest.

 

Nothing he buried ever stayed that way. Maybe it was a good thing though, that he had someone who was willing to listen to him babble on about the silly, simple joys of an old, dead life. Anya seemed to actually enjoy it for some odd, obscure reason, Maker bless her. He loved her for that.

 

And it made it feel less like he was being drowned under the heaviness of guilt and his sister’s death. Every once in a while it was like he could see the surface, light at the top of the water from where he was, way down deep, the weight on his shoulders slowly losing its purchase.

 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to remember. He carried his sister's death with him everywhere he went.

 

Anya was looking at him with a furrow in her brow and he realized belatedly that they’d fallen behind, deep in silence as Merrill and Isabela scouted the trail ahead of them. Clearing his throat awkwardly against the lump that had risen in it, he gave her half a smile while approaching her and surreptitiously tucked a stray lock of her dark brown hair behind her ear.

 

She tapped his cheek. Another simple touch. It became a routine between the two of them. A touch to reassure each other in times of doubt.

 

She didn’t ask and for that he was grateful.

 

“Hurry it up, you two,” Isabela yelled down from the top of the hill. So much for stealth. Not that they needed stealth to haul back part of a tree.

 

Hawke suddenly felt lighter. Just from that one touch and Anya's presence. He grinned at Isabela.

 

“Easy for you to say,” he yelled back good-naturedly, but picked up his pace. “You try lugging all of this stuff around.”

 

“I told you pants do nothing but slow you down.”

 

“I was talking about my staff and armor, pirate wench.”

 

“Well, any time you want some assistance removing yourself from that old tin can…” Isabela drawled lasciviously, giving him a less than subtle look up and down.

 

“I’ll get a crowbar.”

 

“Or some magic Anya.”

 

That last comment was delivered from behind him and, taken aback but terribly amused, he turned to look at Anya.

 

The corner of her mouth quirked.

 

He burst out laughing.

 

“Never mind,” they said in unison when Isabela opened her mouth to ask, leaving the pirate to fold her arms and jut her lip out in a sulk when they moved passed her to catch up with Merrill, who was already doubling back from a clearing at the end of the trail.

 

“Found it!” The little Dalish elf exclaimed proudly.  When they saw it, Isabela gave a low whistle and next to him, Anya was biting her knuckles. Something she does when she's deep in thought.

 

Tapping his chin thoughtfully with one gloved finger, Hawke said what they were all thinking.

“I have no idea how we’re getting this back to the city.”

 

“I nominate Hawke,” Isabela was saying, grumbling as Merrill carefully pulled splinters out of her palms.

 

“What do I look like, wench, your pack mule?” Hawke said with an amused smile.

 

“No,” the Rivaini said pleasantly, a saccharin smile on her face. “You look like a big strong mage, with a big heavy staff.”

 

“We could take turns carrying,” Merrill tried to interject.

 

Isabela ignored her.

 

“And this automatically qualifies me to haul around your treasure?”

 

“Guys-” Anya this time.

 

“It’s not my treasure, it’s your treasure.”

 

“Hey, guys-”

 

“That’s a first; usually you can’t wait to get your hands all over anything shiny. Except you always end up with an old boot instead."

 

“Ironbark isn’t shiny,” Merrill put in, to no particular effect.

 

“I’d like to get my hands all over you-”

 

“Ugh, spare me Isabela.”

 

“-That shining and glistening staff under that armor-”

 

“People!” Anya clapped her hands together loudly while Rhakkaro screeched, making the three of them look over at her. “Don’t you guys smell that?”

 

“All I smell is the stinky stench of bullshit,” Isabela answered sweetly, giving him an irritating smile and a wink.

 

“I don’t see any bulls,” Merrill objected, sniffing.

 

Hawke rolled his eyes but Anya was frowning, standing at the head of the trail with her nose in the air. “I’m serious, you guys don’t smell that? It smells like-”

 

Whatever she had been about to say was cut off by the quivering shaft of a crossbow bolt sticking out of her left shoulder.

 

“Darkspawn,” Merrill breathed, the word heavy with horror just a second before a pair of the twisted creatures made their way up the rise, coming up the coastal trail from the opposite direction. "What are they doing here?"

 

“Oh shit,” Isabela said, ducking as the genlocks raised their crossbows again and fired.

 

Anya shoved Merrill down behind a small rock outcropping only fit to shelter someone of her size and then unconscionably, inexplicably turned and put Hawke behind her. The crossbows twanged twice and she made a breathless sound, staggering back against him with two more bolts sticking out of her chest. Rhakkaro screeched loudly again, stunning some of the darkspawn as he clawed at them.

 

Lightning shot out from Merrill’s pile of rocks, turning the air around them to ozone as something screamed, high and animalistic. A glass bottle exploded, raising a misty smoke from the contents within and Hawke didn’t wait for the flash of Isabela’s daggers that he knew would come after, grabbing Anya around the waist and dragging her back behind the downed Ironbark tree.

 

Blood was roaring through his ears and dimly he was aware of cursing at her, calling her an idiot, reckless, worse things as he struggled to get her out of her leathers and to the wounds beneath, the clawed fingertips of his gauntlets scrabbling against the torn mail shirt underneath, rings slickening with blood.

 

“Seth, stop,” she ordered him and he ignored her, words only half registering through the torrent of his own until she raised one hand and slapped him hard across the face. He stopped, stunned speechless as she grabbed the top of his breastplate and shook him with one hand, growling up into his face. “Pull your shit together. Go help the others.”

 

He wanted to say no, and that didn’t make any sense. Anya was down and her magic and arrows along with her, they were going to need him. But budging from Anya’s side was proving to be the more difficult battle, everything in him screaming that he couldn't just leave her there.

 

Who would protect her?

 

What if something happened?

 

Somewhere deep down he could hear her voice as though they'd already had this conversation; she would argue that _something_ had already happened, that there was little he could do about it now, and that it was alright because nothing else too terribly bad was likely to happen so late in the afternoon.

 

Only two of those things were true. The last one was just flagrant wishful thinking. He thought he might be sick.

 

She looked at him and he looked back at her, the hard anger melting from her face into an unfamiliar expression somewhere near pleading and wordlessly he nodded, drawing his staff and vaulting over the fallen tree casting fireballs all the while.

 

Merrill and Isabela were fighting back to back and he moved to join them, guiding the battle away from where he’d left Anya lying in the dirt.

 

_Bleeding. Helpless._

 

He wanted to vomit, imagining that he could smell her blood on his armored fingers even over the stench of the darkspawn, his own sweat and Isabela’s smoke-powder.

 

The battle was not the most difficult they had faced, even with the element of surprise against them. Isabela was even laughing, mocking and annoying, right up until the ground shook under their feet and there was a deafening roar that seemed to silence everything in its wake.

 

An ogre.

 

A boulder exploded, showering him with shrapnel as it was flung through the air and met with one of Merrill’s spells before it could land. The horned thing roared and charged, scattering them in all different directions – Isabela and Merrill diving to one side, himself to the other. The pirate threw a smoke grenade in its face when it moved toward her and the ogre staggered back, snarling and clawing at its eyes, and then turned on him.

It was huge. Its eyes were yellow, reddened where the whites ought to be, and it slavered when it roared, hulking over him and kept at bay only by the point of the staff he held extended between them.

 

He was never going to see Anya again.

 

He would never kiss her beautiful, stupid mouth.

 

He would never know what it felt like to hold her, to touch her, to-

 

She was never going to forgive him for dying.

 

“Hey ugly, over here!”

 

Not that she’d let him.

 

_Idiot stupid woman. What is she doing?_

 

The ogre screamed as a lightning out of nowhere caught it in the ear, whirling toward Anya where she stood, winding up again with her good arm behind the bulk of the ironbark tree. Anya started chanting and he knew that it was one of _her_ magic.

 

Rhakkaro made another screech, capturing the full attention of the ogre.

 

“Anya, no!”

 

She, predictably, ignored him. Another lightning sang out with unerring accuracy and caught the ogre between the eyes. “That’s right, you stupid bastard. I’m the one you want. Come get me.”

 

The moment the ogre charged he knew what she was doing, distracting the beast long enough for the three of them to get behind it, out of the way of its horns and the heavy maul it held in one hand. He might have even said it was a good plan, if she hadn’t already been shot three times.

 

Her griffon screeched again.

 

Horns met the trunk of the ironbark tree with an almighty clang, wood flying everywhere, and Anya dropped out of sight. The ogre backed off and charged again, mindlessly offended at getting tangled in the deadfall’s branches and he heard Merrill gasp sharply as the creature pushed one end of the tree trunk clear off the cliff’s edge, the other end hung up on a cluster of stones.

 

Anya was still nowhere in sight.

 

“Kill it, kitten,” Isabela suggested, and the little elf complied, a stone fist summoned from the ether and flung at the creature’s back. It teetered with a roar, scrabbling for purchase on the Cliffside, bringing the tree and a hail of stones down with it as it toppled over the edge.

 

“Oh crap,” Isabela said, at the same time that Merrill exclaimed “Anya!" in horror, and the three of them raced to the precipice, skidding to a stop at the edge. Down below there was nothing but a tree trunk washing out to sea and a dead ogre splattered on the rocks, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, and the world was spinning, upside down, out of control, and-

 

Rhakkaro was holding Anya with his talons and she was laughing.

 

She was sitting with her feet hanging off the edge of the cliff, her back up against the rocky outcropping the ironbark tree had wedged itself against before it fell. She looked mostly unscathed, if dusty, but the drag marks in the sand next to her were testament to how close she’d come to being swept off the cliff and into the surf below. If her griffon wasn't there she could've-

 

“Should have seen your faces,” she laughed, and then coughed, and the little bit of blood that appeared at the edge of her lips was the only thing keeping him from absolutely murdering her.

 

 

* * *

 

“Can you please slow down?”

 

Her chest was hurting something fierce and it was hard to walk and talk at the same time. The two healing potions they’d made her drink had closed the worst of the wounds, Hawke was standing over her looking positively apoplectic when she’d gritted her teeth and yanked the bolts out over his protests (her leathers and mail had taken the brunt of the damage anyway), but had done little for the persistent ache that let her know that once again she’d be invading Anders’ clinic, and for the second time this week at that. Seth Hawke wouldn't be happy.

 

She was going to get a lecture from him, that part was inevitable, and likely another from Varric and Leandra as well, but Hawke's stony, stalking fury was what most troubled her, being that he was not three feet in front of her and refused to look her in the face.

 

“Why, do you need to rest?” He snapped, sounding more angry than concerned, and she felt herself frown, stopping.

 

Rhakkaro looked from Anya to Hawke, his head twisting to one side. The two rarely argued and his mistress looked tired. He opened their mental link to check if she was okay.

 

Anya felt the faint nudging of the griffons mind. She closed her eyes. _Go check on Bela and Merrill for a while little cub. I need to talk to Seth._

 

The griffon made a faint sound and flew to where Isabela and Merrill were dragging the load of ironbark. He had grown much since they arrived. He grew drastically every day and now he was a little bigger than Butcher, much to the mabari's dismay.

 

Anya sighed and returned to her conversation with Hawke. “Yes,” she said frankly, and put a hand to where Merrill’s elfroot compresses made one side of her leathers bulge unevenly, feeling the twinge in her skin and muscles beneath the touch. Why couldn't she have been gifted with healing magic? “Not to mention that you’re leaving the girls in the dust, and I’ve been trying to talk to you for half an hour.”

 

Anya put a hand out, reaching to lean against a scrubby tree, and was surprised when Hawke turned around and roughly grabbed her arm, supporting her. She stared at him for a long moment while he looked away, looking at anything but her, until finally she sighed. “You’re angry with me.”

 

That earned her little more than a glower.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He growled something under his breath and stalked away, leaving her to stand uncertainly by herself until he whirled back around and stabbed his finger at her accusingly. “I have never seen you fight so poorly.”

 

Her brow furrowed. “Me? You’re the one who was more interested in getting me out of my leathers than actually killing monsters.”

 

She thought he was going to implode or maybe grab her and shake her, but he didn’t, merely throwing the satchel of ironbark pieces he was carrying to the ground with a thud. “You got shot!”

 

“Only a little.”

 

“Three times!”

 

“So what? I'm still breathing!”

 

He turned away from her at that, threading both hands into his auburn hair and pulling as though he’d tear it all out. “You didn’t even go for cover you stupid little girl. You think that you can just-”

 

“I couldn’t just let them shoot you!” she shouted at his back, and then coughed, sitting down on the ground abruptly with a hand to her chest. “Ow.”

 

Instantly he was by her side, kneeling in the dust. “Boots-”

 

“I’m sorry, alright?” She interrupted, pain making her feel raw on the insides, the effort of fighting with him tempting her with the unfamiliar pressure of tears behind her eyelids. “I’m sorry you’re mad at me, I’m sorry I slapped you, and I’m sorry that I was reckless and almost got myself pushed off a cliff. But I’m not sorry that you didn’t get hurt; don’t make me apologize for that.” _I made a promise to myself that I’d protect you, no matter what_.

 

He looked at her silently for a long moment and she bit the inside of her lip and looked back, and eventually he sighed and scrubbed a hand wearily over his face. “Boots, you will be the death of me.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

He just gave her a look and hauled her to her feet with a hand on her elbow, only turning her loose after he was sure she could stand on her own. “You’re going to see Anders as soon as we get back to the city.” Anya was surprised that he'd say that. He wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows the last time she saw Anders. In fact he was pissed. She sighed. _No use in asking him with his mood right now._

 

“Alright.”

 

“And we're taking a few days off. Varric will definitely understand.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Stop agreeing with me.”

 

She laughed at that and winced, rubbing her chest again. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

 

Hawke just smiled with his brow furrowed, the twist of his lips lacking any real humor.

 

“At least the ogre broke that tree up into manageable bits,” she reasoned, hefting the bag of ironbark before he glared and took it away from her.

 

“You are disgustingly optimistic.”

 

“That's what you need me for, right?”

 

He didn’t say anything to that and she sighed _. If only she knew why I need her._ _Maker, I’m not even sure myself why I need her._ Now _that_ was a scary thought.

 

She reached out after a moment to hesitantly touch his cheek. “Come on, what are friends for.”

 

* * *

 

He found her somewhere safer to sit, beneath a tree on a low rise where they could see the trail in both directions. Fenris watched Merrill and Isabela in the distance, with Rhakkaro carrying a bundle of branches between them wrapped in a piece of blanket. He hadn’t meant to leave them so far behind but a break from Isabela’s tasteless jokes and constant complaining and Merrill’s mindless blathering and unwanted bits of herbal trivia was more than welcome. He wasn't in the mood today. Any other day, he would've joked around with Isabela and tried to humor Merrill with mushrooms and elfroots, but today was different. He was worried and pissed at Anya at the same time.

 

But she was here. Looking worse for wear, but here. Alive. Safe.

 

She was pale and drawn, sitting against the trunk of the tree with her eyes closed and one hand absently rested over the left side of her chest, her leathers and fingers dark and stiff with blood that had dried and was beginning to flake. She’d groused at him once or twice for hovering, for pacing when he wasn’t hovering, but then she’d gone quiet, a testament to weariness and the thoughts he could almost see flickering beneath lowered eyelids.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked for what had to be the tenth time, and she opened one eye and looked at him crossly.

 

“I kept up with you for two bloody miles, I reckon I’ll live.”

 

There, that familiar feeling in his gut. Guilt. But with the guilt was something else, something like thankfulness, gratitude even. For her life, for his life, for the simple fact that she’d followed him.

 

Hawke didn’t like being chased. He’d had years to develop an aversion to it, a deep, basic fear of being caught, of being trapped, bound and tethered like an animal. He had to keep Bethany and himself from the templars. Most of all he didn't like the fluttering feeling he felt every time Anya was involved either. Flirting and fucking had become second nature, almost a compulsion, his body in motion the only method he knew to deal with feelings he found unfamiliar. But this, this was different.

 

_Uncomfortable. Complex. Confusing._

 

There was something to be said for the fact that she’d followed, however. That when he’d decided to run back, he hadn’t had far to go. That she was there. Not his. But still there.

 

“They’d better hurry up,” Anya was saying, watching the pair of their companions slowly make their way up the trail as she absently flexed her left arm, wincing at the soreness. Her scaled leathers on that side were a mess, the mail beneath in need of repair, the whole thing likely in need of replacement.

 

Not that she’d spend the coin. She’d just patch it again, until the next time they got shot at.

 

He forced himself to take a deep breath when that thought made him feel faintly ill, only half listening to her talk quietly in the background.

 

“I’d like to get back to the city before night,” she was saying, her mouth pulled into a frown. “I’d rather not be caught in the dark out here if there are more of those… things.”

 

“Darkspawn,” he thoughtlessly supplied, arms crossed over his chest as he stared off in the distance.

 

“Yes, darkspawn,” she repeated tonelessly and he glanced at her. She was fiddling with her necklace again. “I reckon we should tell someone about this, about them being this close to the city. Maybe Anders will know who.”

 

Hawke shrugged and sighed.

 

“I haven’t seen them since… well.” His voice went flat here, prompting her to look at him. “You know the story.”

 

He wasn’t sure why he came and sat down next to her, but he did. The bark of the tree was rough and warm from the waning summer heat of the day, and it felt good against his back. He leaned against it and looked at her, silently examining the profile of her face for a time. She had blood smeared on her neck and on the underside of her jaw, she smelled of sweat and the tang of metal, and from here he could see how utterly smooth and perfect she was. She never seemed to bear scars from anything. Her features were soft and her nose just a hair off perfect for the rigorous demands of classical beauty.

 

And she was the only thing worth looking at for miles.

 

That was terrifying.

 

Tiredly she scrubbed a hand across her eyes and shattered his train of thought, breaking his reverie though he watched her still as she slid the small silver snowflake pendant back beneath the neck of her leathers. He noticed her doing that a couple of times. The first was that night in the Hanged Man when she had her flashes. He spoke with her about her past and she was unconsciously grasping the pendant all the while as she told him about her missing memories. And now she was doing it again. It made him worry.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

The same old question, again, on its umpteenth repetition, but this time she laughed humorlessly because they both knew what he was really asking.

 

“What am I supposed to do, cry?” She picked up a rock in her right hand and threw it at a boulder across from them, leaving a chalky white mark behind where the two struck together. “This is going to be nothing up against the Deep Roads, ogres and all. I ought to be prepared.”

 

"You don't have to go with us. You can stay here in Kirkwall with mother-"

 

"And worry about you every single second for more than a few weeks? No thank you. I rather be with you in the Deep Roads than have nightmares of the stones crushing you."

 

Hawke felt his heart squeeze a little from what she said. Hesmiled and wrapped his arm around her. A familiar gesture.

 

"You're a stubborn little idiot. What kind of woman says those things to a man and expect him not to melt into a puddle." Hawke placed his chin on top of her head.

 

Anya smiled and whispered. "One of a kind."

 

“You still fought terribly,” he reminded her, words light against the heaviness of significance.

 

She snorted. “I got shot.”

 

“Only a little.” Hawke said, letting himself relax a little now that he was sure that she was here beside him, alive and breathing.

 

As with so many things where Anya was involved, it was more than it was, the whole exceeding the sum of its parts. It wasn’t just the way she looked, the way she smelled, the press and weight of her body against his side, the strength and solidity of her shoulders under his arm. It was that she’d bled for him and used her body as his shield, stepping in when unexpected death loomed near. It was that she spoke her thoughts and her regrets, sharing her history and her secrets as though she never thought he might be unworthy of being their keeper.

 

And she hadn’t let him run away. That might be the crux of it. He’d neither wanted nor asked for this new bond, this unclear tether that connected the two of them, but he could not imagine being without it now that it was there.

 


	6. A Glance At The Past

Hawke had no idea why he was heading to the Rose.

 

He distinctly recalled Anya being the reason why.

 

_She was hurt from their previous trip to the Wounded Coast and he was helping her fix her bandages._

_“Hey Seth.” He heard her say._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Do you see me as a woman?” Hawke sputtered and choked on his words. Why in the world is she asking?_

_“Pffft. Why? Aren’t you one?” He asked her. She laughed then completely changed the topic, leaving him completely baffled. For a second there, he thought she caught him._

 

Click. Clack. Click. Clack. His boots echoed in the empty streets of Hightown at night. He needed a breather. Maybe if he visited the Rose and surrounded himself with women he’d be completely fine again. He rounded the corner and went face to face with Isabela.

 

“Hawke!”

 

“Hello, pirate wench.” Hawke replied casually, eyeing her up and down.

 

“Heading to the Rose?” Isabela traced a finger on Hawke’s arm.

 

“Yes. Or maybe. . .” He suddenly grabbed Isabela’s waist and brought her close to him. “Is your room vacant tonight, wench?”

 

Isabela squealed in delight. “Lucky for you, it is.”

 

Hawke felt that familiar lust for women and sighed in relief. _Maybe this is the right thing to do. Maybe, just maybe, I’m not falling in love with Anya after all._

 

* * *

 

 

Anya watched Hawke and Isabela from the shadows. She didn’t know what possessed her to follow him in the first place. Curiosity must’ve gotten the better of her. She sneaked off as soon as he left and followed him even though she knew that he was headed to the Rose. What she didn’t expect was the sudden emotion she felt when she saw him and Isabela together. She couldn’t comprehend what it was. It made her feel sad and annoyed and something else entirely. The question was why. Why had she been so blissfully happy whenever she was with him these past few months? Why did her heart race whenever he touched her? Why did she feel sad from what she saw just now? _Why? Why? Why?_

 

She walked away, intending to go to that hidden lake near Sundermount. She didn’t know why she wanted to go there as soon as she saw the lake. It was as if her body remembered something her mind didn’t. She needed time to think and pull her shit together. She had wasted enough time gallivanting with Hawke and his merry band of misfits. It was time for her to avenge her mother’s death. When that’s done, maybe then she could take time to make sense of her emotions.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _A full moon_. Sebastian thought as he took his armor off and sat by the lake. It was _their_ tradition back in Starkhaven to sneak off and meet by the pond near her house whenever it was a full moon when they were younger. If he closed his eyes and concentrated hard enough, he could still see her sitting beside him with a huge grin on her face. She would splash water on him and laugh while he tried to grab her. They would sit there until the sun rose, talking about their day, their dreams, their wishes, anything. Maker, he missed her. He missed her smile, her long dark hair, her voice, her laugh. He missed her. He didn’t know what was more painful, the fact that he was part of what ruined her happy life, or the fact that she was probably somewhere out there, happy and contented with her life, her memory of him long gone. But it was what had to be done. It was either that, or she dies and he was sure that he wanted nothing more than for her to live and be happy, even if it meant that he would never be.

 

Prince Sebastian Vael the black sheep of the family who does nothing but whore around and drink himself to death. He chuckled. He wondered why he was still living while his family was dead. Why him? He was the one who wanted to die, the one who gave up on life. Now he had nothing left. Maybe he had nothing from the day he was born after all. Maybe it was only _her_ that gave him something to cherish. He raised his hand to the moon.

 

_“Look Sebby! It’s like we could pluck the moon!” Avarania pointed to her other hand which was raised at the moon._

_“Idiot. How’re you gonna do that?” He asked while he waded his foot in the water._

_“I dunno.” She shrugged. “But if I could, I’ll give it to you.”_

_“Why?”_

_Avarania shrugged. “Because you’re my only friend. I don’t have anyone else to give it to.”_

_He smiled at her. He didn’t have anyone else either. He was the third son and his parents were the traditional type. They had the heir and the spare. They had no use for a third son who could possibly meddle with things and so he was left in the dust. The unwanted son. At first he minded it and cried every time. It went on and on, until one day, he just got used to it. His attitude towards the servants didn’t help either. He was often called the beast, the monster, the bastard, but it was too late. He didn’t care anymore until Avarania came into his life._

_He met her in the woods behind the castle. No one dared to go in there in fear of getting lost. He was in a sour mood that day after beating up a couple of nobles’ sons. He saw a little boy running from a wild boar. The kid was holding a bow but it was pretty obvious that he ran out of arrows and that this was out of his league. The kid ran past him. He turned around and saw the wild boar charging after him now too. He ran after the kid. In the end they both got stranded up in a tree waiting for the wild boar to leave. He hated that kid so much. Funny enough, the same thing happened again three days later. That’s when he found out that the kid wasn’t actually a boy, but a girl. They started off like that. He was twelve and she was five. She was his saving grace, his shelter in a storm and his oasis in the desert. She had no idea that he was a prince and mouthed off at him every time she could. Even after she did find out that he was a prince, she never changed. They’ve been inseparable ever since. He would always sneak away from the castle to meet up in their lake._

_“What do you want Avarania?” He asked her. She still had her hand up in the moon._

_“Hmmmm.” She made a show of thinking and then smiled at him. “A snowflake.”_

_He laughed at her. “I’ll remember that.”_

 

Sebastian suddenly heard a rustling from behind him and instinctively grabbed his bow, his eyes adjusting to the dark with the moon as the only source of light. What he saw made his heart stop.


	7. My Tears Are From The Wind

Anya stood at the edge of the lake. She looked around. It was so peaceful there with only the sounds of nature around her. There was a huge boulder on her far left and thick greenery on her right. She took her boots off and sat on the water’s edge and started humming a familiar tune. She looked up and saw the full moon above her. _It’s so pretty._ She thought and raised her hand as if to pluck the moon out of the sky. She continued humming while gently splashing her feet in the water. She closed her eyes.

 

_“What’s that?” She heard a tiny feminine voice ask._

_“A snowflake.” A familiar voice replied to her. It was a boy’s voice with a brogue._

_“You’re giving it to me?”_

_“Has there ever been a thing that you’ve asked that I have’na given to you.” The Starkhaven accent was more prominent now._

_She heard the feminine voice giggle._

_“Raise it up. Go on. I had it made for our moon.”_

 

Anya heard something move from her right and suddenly opened her eyes. She looked around. No one was there. It must’ve been a squirrel. She suddenly remembered the voices. Was it a memory? She took out her snowflake pendant.

 

_Raise it up. Go on. I had it made for our moon._

She did what the voice said and raised the pendant against the moon’s light. She gasped. It was beautiful. She never knew that the snowflake was actually made out of crystals and not just silver. The moonlight, reflected by the snowflake, exploded into a ray of light that bathed her face is prismatic colors. Who could’ve given it to her? She felt a sudden sadness wash over her. If only she could remember.

 

 

Sebastian couldn’t breathe when he saw the girl raise the pendant up. _Avarania? It can’t be. That’s impossible. Surely, that’s not her._

 

She suddenly looked down as if she remembered something sad. Sebastian suddenly wondered if it really was her. He saw her tuck the pendant back in her leathers. She continued to hum, this time a different tune.

 

He froze.

 

_Avarania sang to him as he placed his head on her lap. He hated the castle._

_“He wasn’t cry-ing,_

_it was the wind!_

_In that huge cas-tle,_

_there must be wind._

_But I will stand there._

_In front of him._

_So there won’t be- No tears, no more.”_

 

 

_He hated the castle. He hated his father. He hated his life. He felt her fingers in his hair as she continued to sing._

_“In this forest. I’ll stay with you–_

_We’ll be toge-ther forever more._

_There won’t be winds here._

_To give you tears._

_I’ll block them all out– just for you.”_

_“Go on it’s your turn!” She urged him and giggled._

_Sebastian cleared his throat and sang in the same tune Avarania used:_

_“I won’t be cry-ing._

_Because of them._

_You hold me close._

_You keep me warm._

_And I’ll stay with you–  from this day on.”_

_He looked at her as he sang the last line. “We’ll be together– forever more.”_

_Avarania smiled and repeated the last line with him._

_He sat up and bumped his forehead to hers._

_“Silly girl. Thank you.”_

Sebastian felt tears on his cheeks as he realized that it was really her. _Maker, what are you trying to do? Why would she be here?_

Sebastian suddenly heard people approaching; he backed up a few steps, just enough to hide and still see who the people were.

 

“Princess? You here?” That was Varric Tethras. Everyone knew the dwarf who always had stories to tell.

 

“Boots!” He heard a man shout. He moved a little to his right to get a better view. It was Hawke. He saw him a couple of days ago in front of the chantry while he was arguing with Grand Cleric Elthina. Why didn’t he see Avarania then?

 

“Dammit Boots! You can’t just run off like that. Did you know how worried I was when I came home and you weren’t there?!”

 

Sebastian froze. They lived together?”

 

I asked Rhakkaro but he wouldn’t tell me. He’s so stubborn; he must’ve taken after you.”

 

Maker, Sebastian hoped that Hawke wasn’t talking about Avarania’s– No. There is no way that she could’ve had a child. She’s still too young for that.

 

“Maker, you’re worse than your mother, Seth!” He heard Avarania say as she walked closer to Hawke.

 

Hawke crossed his arms. “Don’t do that again, you hear? It’s not safe to wander around Kirkwall at night.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, on a completely different note. How was your night at the Rose?” She asked with a grin on her face. Sebastian almost choked. _The Rose?_

 

“Sweaty, sticky and full of gorgeous women wearing almost nothing.”

 

Sebastian heard Avarania groan. “You missed your calling. You should’ve been a poet.” Hawke laughed.

 

“She’s right, Hawke. Maybe you would’ve been more famous than me.” Varric added.

 

“Quiet you two.” Hawke said and grabbed Avarania’s waist. “Come on Boots. Let’s go home.”

 

Sebastian saw Avarania bump her forehead to Hawke’s. He felt a pang of jealousy. She used to do that to him. Back when everything was normal. Back when she still had her memories of him. Now they were walking away. He heard Avarania and Hawke’s friendly banter.

 

“You still owe me for that pie.” Hawke said.

 

“What? No, I don’t.” Avarania replied.

 

“Yes, you do–“

 

“–No, I don’t”

 

Sebastian stared after her until they disappeared in the distance. He collapsed on the dirt. Why was the Maker doing this to him? Wasn’t everything enough? He already went through so much since he’d lost her. If only he had been stronger back then. If only he knew who kidnapped and tortured her. If only he wasn’t so weak and stupid, maybe he could’ve prevented the whole thing from happening.

 

‘No.’ He thought. Maybe it wasn’t too late yet. Maybe he could still make new memories with her. Danaé did tell him that she would never regain her memories, even if he tried. So why not make new ones.

 

He stood up and grabbed his stuff. He would write to Hawke. He would ask for his assistance to kill the mercenaries who murdered his family. Then he would introduce himself to her. He would make new memories with her. I wasn’t too late. Especially now that she’s truly the only one he has.

 

He strode off with a new energy. He was a man with a purpose.


	8. Meeting Destiny

“What are you doing?” Hawke asked when he saw Anya mixing green and blue dye.

 

“I actually have no idea.” She answered while she grabbed her arrows.

 

“Aha.” _Aha was a good word. Neutral. Non-committal._

 

Anya shrugged. “I think I used to dye the fletchings.” She pointed to the arrow in her hand. “I woke up this morning and felt like doing it.”

 

He knew better than to ask. Anya sometimes had crazy little whims and he usually just chalked it up to the resurfacing of one of her missing memories.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” He asked her for the umpteenth time. The week before, he had told her that he’d received a letter from the Prince of Starkhaven, asking him to kill a bunch of mercenaries and she immediately said no.

 

“Yup.” Anya dipped one of her arrow’s feathers in the dye.

 

“Last chance, Boots. You sure you don’t want to come with us?”

 

“Very sure.” She gave him a weird smile.

 

Hawke nodded to Anya before he left with Carver. _Maker, if only he knew why I didn’t want to go help any of the Vaels._ She watched them leave. Anya distinctly remembered her mother doing the same good deed. The Prince repaid her kindness by killing her. Knowing that the man whom she meant to kill was already dead wasn’t helping either. Anya gritted her teeth. Maker blight it all. She wasn’t going to cry again. That wouldn’t help her at all. She grabbed more of her arrows and concentrated on dyeing the fletchings one by one, pushing the painful memories aside.

 

 

Hawke had no idea why Anya insisted on staying home every time he brought up the Prince of Starkhaven. It was weird– for the lack of a better word. Anya wasn’t the type to pass up an opportunity to go out on an adventure. Killing the mercenaries who murdered the Prince’s family took them not only outside the house, but also outside the city. So why didn’t she come with them, again?

 

“Oh! Shiny!” Isabela squealed as she took out something off a dead mercenary’s pocket.

 

“What’s that Rivaini?”

 

“It’s a locket! Oh and look at the picture. It’s so detailed!”

 

“It must’ve been a regular-sized painting, enchanted to fit in that locket.” Anders leaned down to take a better look at the trinket.

 

“Great. Now I’m curious.” Hawke muttered as he went to take a look. There was a portrait of a very elegant woman on one side of the locket. On the other side was a painting of a boy and a girl. The painting was faded but he was pretty sure that the boy had red hair. _It’s probably Sebastian or one of his brothers._ The girl in the picture caught his attention. She was wearing commoner clothes. That was unusual. Why would a noble wear commoner’s clothing? He looked at the girl’s smiling face. Her hair was dark and wavy. It framed her petite face and made her look fragile. She looked familiar.

 

“I’m keeping this!” Isabela grabbed the locket from Hawke’s hands.

 

Hawke gave Isabela a stare. “We’re returning it to Sebastian, Isabela.”

 

“Why? ‘Finders keepers’ right?”

 

“We’re giving it back to him Isabela and that’s final.” The pirate pouted but gave Hawke the locket.

 

“Say, who do you think that girl in the picture was?” Isabela asked.

 

Anders looked indifferent. “Probably one of the Vaels.”

 

Varric looked at the mage and said, “The woman and the boy yes, but the other one, I’m not so sure.”

 

Anders brows furrowed. “How so?”

 

“Have you seen the Vaels, Blondie? They have red hair, blue eyes, and prominent cheekbones. That girl on the other hand. . . “ Varric trailed off.

 

Hawke listened quietly to his companions. There _was_ something familiar about that girl.

 

 

Sebastian couldn’t believe that he was sneaking out of the chantry through the windows. Again. The last time he did that was when Elthina gave him a choice; either walk through the front doors of the Chantry, or leave. But he needed time to think. It had been a week since he sent a letter to Hawke, asking him to avenge his family’s murder. He’s mind went back and forth from regret to satisfaction. He regretted it because these mercenaries were just hired to kill his family. For them it was just a job, a source of coin to feed their own families. He pondered his decision day and night. Sometimes he woke up feeling satisfied and happy that he had finally avenged his family’s death, but deep down he knew that he would never be satisfied until he knew who the masterminded the massacre.

 

Sebastian arrived at _his_ lake. It was funny how he gravitated to this spot every time he wanted some peace of mind. He looked around. He had hoped to see Avarania there. He still wasn’t sure if it really was her. Maybe he just missed her so much that he imagined the whole thing. After all, he hadn’t seen her since. He sighed. He felt so lost.

 

 _Maybe a little dip would help clear my mind_. He took his armor off and placed it against a big rock. The water was cold but he didn’t mind. He sat on a shallow part of the lake, just deep enough to submerge his body up to his chest. He had set many traps around the area so he would know if there was any danger. He leaned back on a boulder and closed his eyes.

 

_“Look at this, Sebby!”_

_“What is it now, Avarania? I’m not in the mood.” He grumbled as he sat closer to her. Her fingers were together as if she were praying, except for her middle fingers which were curled in._

_“This one–“ She said as she wiggled her forefinger, “Is your parents. See how you can separate them?” Sebastian nodded._

_“Now this one–“ She now wiggled her pinkies, “represents your siblings.”_

_“Uh-huh” He raised an eyebrow to her._

_“Quiet, you! And then this one–“ she wiggled her thumbs, “are the different people around you.”_

_“So what’s this one?” He asked, pointing to her curled middle fingers._

_“That’s your life, your decisions.”_

_“Uh-huh. And this?” He asked, pointing on her ring finger._

_Avarania smiled. “See how you could separate every finger except this one?” She demonstrated it to him._

_True enough, he could separate every finger except for his ring finger. Not for the lack of trying, of course._

_Avarania laughed at his perplexed expression. “This finger is you. You have to live your life the way you want to. You shouldn’t let others get in the way. Not other people, not your siblings, not even your parents because at the end of the day, the only person who will have to live with your decision is you.” He smiled back at her. Such wisdom from the mouth of a ten-year-old._

_“There’s more.” She said._

_“That’s not all? Oh, do tell.” He joked._

_“That one is also me. I’ll stand by your decision no matter what. Even if you run away from me, I’ll run after you.”_

_“Why?”_

_“So if you ever decide to come back, you wouldn’t have to run far.”_

 

Sebastian could still remember it clearly as if it happened yesterday. He was fourteen back then. That was the last conversation they had before everything went to pieces. That was the last time he had seen her smile.

 

Once again, he wondered about the “what if’s” and “could have been’s”.

 

He was about to stand up from the water when he heard a yelp behind him. He instinctively stood up to grab his bow and aimed at the general direction of the sound, utterly forgetting that he was gloriously naked. A string of curses erupted from where the yelp came from. His eyes finally adjusted and he saw her.

 

_Avarania?_

 

She was dangling upside down from a tree. It seems like his trap caught her foot. She finally saw him and screamed.

 

“I won’t hurt you lass.”

 

“So the spider tells the fly.” She muttered under her breath and he chuckled.

 

“Well what’re you waiting for? Get me out of here! Wait, on second thought, don’t come near me until you put some clothes on!”

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes, turned around and began putting his clothes and armor back on. She was just like she was when she was younger, and he couldn’t resist.

 

“Nothing there that you have’na seen before, lass.”

 

“Maker, it’s like crossing a bridge. Don’t. Look. Down. Or up. Since I’m hanging upside down.” Sebastian laughed. The Maker indeed had a grand sense of humor, letting them finally meet again in the worst possible scenario.

 

“You can open your eyes now.”

 

“I swear if you’re still naked, I’m going to gut you and feed your corpse to the vultures.” She threatened as he made work of his trap. The rope holding her foot suddenly went slack and he caught her in his arms.

 

“A fair warning would’ve been nice.” She grunted. Sebastian smiled. Still the same as always it seems.

 

“Even if I warned you, I would still have had to catch you. What’s the difference then?”

 

“Arggh. You’re impossible!” She fixed her leathers and brushed off the non-existent dust.

 

Sebastian laughed and she gave him a glare. She rolled her eyes and stalked away.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“As far away from perverts like you as possible.” She yelled her reply as she continued walking away.

 

Sebastian laughed.

 

_Thank you, Andraste for giving me this._


	9. Safe In Your Arms

“Cheer up, Boots! I’ll buy you a pie after we do this alright?” Hawke tried to humor Anya, who was glaring at everything and everyone. They were headed to the chantry to tell the Prince that the mercenaries are dead.

 

Anya gave him a blank look and a raised eyebrow.

 

“What?” Hawke nearly whined at her. She was obnoxiously cute when she’s in this particular mood.

 

“Nothing.” Anya kicked a stray rock.

 

Hawke placed his arm around her waist. “Fine, fine. Whatever.”

 

* * *

 

Sebastian was standing near the entrance of the Chantry. Earlier, one of Varric’s runners had told him that Hawke would be ‘dropping by’ to deliver great news regarding the Flint Mercenaries. _Maker, I hope Avarania doesn’t recognize me. I wouldn’t want things to be awkward here in the Chantry. Grand Cleric Elthina will kill me if she finds out that I sneaked out again._

 

Sebastian heard, Hawke “Two pies and a glass of that fruit drink we saw in the market earlier. That’s my final offer.” and turned to see him and Avarania entered the Chantry, followed by Varric.

 

The three continued their banter,

 

“I sense a ‘no’ there, Hawke.” Varric chuckled.

 

Anya grinned. “Two glasses and two pies. I’ll share if you stop haggling.”

 

“Done. Now let’s get this done and over with so we can go get that pie.” Hawke bumped his head on hers.

 

 _Maker, they’re very close aren’t they?_ Sebastian cleared his throat.

 

Hawke flicked Anya’s forehead with his fingers and turned to face Sebastian. Anya turned to look as well. Her delicate features showed the dawn of recognition.

 

She pointed a finger towards Sebastian. “You! You’re that naked–“

 

Sebastian quickly placed a hand over her mouth and tried to drag her outside. She kicked and fought while he struggled to get away from the chantry’s probing eyes and ears.

 

Hawke was about to grab for Sebastian when Anya kicked the prince in the groin and yelled, “Get your filthy hands off me, you pervert!”

 

Doubling over, Sebastian gasped, “Pervert?”

 

“Yes! You’re that naked man who trapped me in the lake!”

 

Sebastian was still unable to stand, “I didn’t set the trap for you in particular, lass.”

 

Varric snickered. “I take it that you two know each other?”

 

“Yes–“

 

“No–“ Anya glared at Sebastian.

 

Hawke suddenly felt a bit annoyed at Sebastian and pulled Anya to him. “Care to explain? The words ‘trap’ and ‘naked’ doesn’t sit well with me.” He nearly growled. He was particularly sensitive with things like this. _Anya was his._ _Now where did that thought come from?_

 

At Hawke’s tone Anya felt a blush start from her toes and race to her neck. “I–I didn’t. I mean, it–it’s . . . “ Anya stuttered. These unknown feelings the man stirred within her made her want to run and hide.

 

“The lass accidentally tripped on one of my traps while I was bathing in the lake.” Sebastian interjected. There was a heat in Hawke’s eyes when he stared at Avarania that Sebastian could only think of as possessiveness. Sebastian didn’t want any trouble for her even if he did just feel a wave of jealousy wash over him. _There was a time when the only person she saw was me._ Sebastian shoved the thought away. He had no right.

 

“A chantry priest skinny-dipping in a lake. Interesting.” Varric rubbed his beardless chin.

 

“You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you, Varric?” A mischievous smile suddenly emerged from Anya’s face.

 

“Oh yes I am, Princess. Yes, I am.”

 

Hawke rolled his eyes and slowly releases Anya. “Can’t you two ever be serious?”

 

“Nope.” Both the dwarf and the girl answered simultaneously.

 

“Not even once? Maker help me.” Hawke gave a dramatic smile, laughed and turned to the Prince. “I’ve killed the people who murdered your family, by the way.”

 

Anya visibly stiffened, the color drained from her face. “You’re the Prince of Starkhaven?”

 

“Boots?” Hawke didn’t like how pale she’d gone.

 

A loud slap echoed around them. Anya had slapped Sebastian. A look of disbelief filled the Prince’s eyes.

 

“The next time you dare to appear in front of me. I will kill you slowly. And I will enjoy every moment of it.” Anya turned and left.

 

Everyone was deathly still. Sebastian forgot how to breathe. _Does she remember me? Does she remember what I did back then? It can’t be. That’s impossible isn’t it?_

 

Hawke cursed and ran after Anya. _What in Maker’s name has gotten into her?_

 

Varric stared at the shocked Prince. “I don’t know what happened just now, but what I do know is that _that_ kid never loses it like that. Ever. She’s disgustingly optimistic and sees the good in everything and everyone.”

 

Sebastian just stared at the dwarf.

 

Varric gave him an encouraging pat. “Whatever it is, Choir Boy, try not to let it happen again. There’s an escaped slave branded with lyrium, an apostate mage with a spirit of vengeance inside him, an awesome dwarf with a sexy crossbow, a pirate queen with twin daggers, a guard captain who’s a woman-shaped battering ram, a Dalish mage who can sell you to a demon, a spoiled younger brother with a big sword, and a crazy psychotic man named Hawke who would burn you to a crisp if you ever as much as look at her the wrong way.” Varric glanced at the baffled Prince’s expression. “I suggest that you try not to make our little Princess angry.” With that, Varric strode off to leave the Prince to battle his own mind. There was a story behind it and Varric was determined to find out what it was.

 

* * *

 

Hawke quietly followed Anya as she left Hightown in a rage. He continued to stay with her as she had stormed out of Kirkwall. Her magic as it leaked out of her in the forms of cracked pavement and little tremors. He knew that something was wrong. Anya was the type who kept her magic on a tight leash even better than he did with his own magic. Something was agitating her and so he brought her out in the Wounded Coast where no one could accidentally get hurt by her.

 

Anya sat on an extended cliff and stared at the setting sun. Hawke sat beside her and she instinctively rested her head on his shoulders. His broad shoulders always made her feel safe and she needed something safe to hold on to at the moment.

 

“Are you going to tell me what just happened back there?” Hawke started massaging her scalp the way she did to him when he had problems. She felt so vulnerable right now even with the static of her weird magic hanging in the air around them.

 

Anya moved closer to Hawke. He didn’t push her to answer immediately and for that she was thankful. His hand on her hair calmed her enough to think clearly again. “I shouldn’t have slapped him. The sins of his father are not his.”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

Anya looked up at Hawke. She reached up to cup his face with both of her hands and placed her forehead on his. She closed her eyes and gave a forlorn sigh. “My mother. She was raped and beaten before she finally died.”

 

Hawke wrapped his arms around her shivering body. _Maker, what horrors has she seen. I wish I had been there to help her._ But he wasn’t and the only thing he could do was hold her now and make her feel that she wasn’t alone.

 

Anya felt Hawke’s embrace. “All my life I had lived in the woods behind the castle of Starkhaven. My mother and I lived in a small hut. She was good at making poultices and I was good at hunting. We would sometimes trade for cheese or other things like clothing and metal for my arrows but other than that, we stayed far from the city. My mother helped a Prince once. He was injured while hunting. That Prince returned for several days and tried to seduce my mother. When she said no after a month of courting, the Prince grew enraged and left. The next day he returned with a handful of his royal guards. I was coming home from hunting rabbits for dinner when I saw him forcing himself on my mother. I saw the guards and hid while that monster abused my mother. I was a coward. If only I wasn’t–“

 

“You’re not a coward. You were smart. Things happen for a reason.” Hawke interrupted her.

 

She nodded ruefully. “I know. But knowing doesn’t make it easier. I vowed to avenge her. I promised that I myself would kill him but you know what she said? She told me to find the Hawkes and forget about it. She said that revenge wouldn’t help. I knew it wouldn’t so I did what she asked and looked for you. Deep down I still wanted to kill him but I made myself believe that the time wasn’t right yet. Then you told me that he was dead. I told myself that it was the will of the Maker but when I saw his son today. I just couldn’t I just–“

 

“Shh. It’s alright.” Hawke felt her arms wrap around his neck and he tightened his hold on her. He wanted to make everything perfect for her. Just for her. He wanted see her to smile. He wanted to hear her laugh.

 

“I love you.” Anya whispered.

 

 _Not the way I love you._ Hawke kissed her forehead.

 

“Thank you, Seth. I never knew that it would make me feel lighter by telling it to someone else.”

 

Hawke smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.”

 

Anya felt relief wash over her. She hid her face on Hawke’s chest and cried. She let loose all the tears she kept to herself since her mother died. And Maker, did it felt good to just cry it all out.

 

 


End file.
